Smarter Than the Average Bear
by commodore17
Summary: Crowley prepares for the annual Gathering. Only this time, he brings a kindred companion along. Written with humor, a lighthearted tone, and just the right amount of Father/son fluff. Set twenty years after the events of "The Hibernian".


Smarter Than the Average Bear

A Ranger's Apprentice Short Story

Summary: Crowley prepares for the annual Gathering. Only this time, he brings with him a kindred companion. Written with humor, a lighthearted tone, and just the right of Father/son fluff. Set twenty years after the events of "The Hibernian".

Author's Note: It has been around two years since I have last uploaded anything on Fanfiction. The site's changed a lot since then. I mean, who doesn't find it cool that you can now upload a cover to your work? Anyway, this short story documents a new idea I had, as well as an opportunity to 'shake off the rust' that accumulated during my leave.

I know that Crowley's characterization may not fit what John Flanagan had intended, but it's rather what I characterize him as.

As always, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. Please excuse any grammar and/or spelling errors that you may find. Of course, some words will purposely be misspelled, as you will later see.

But, most of all, kick back, relax, and enjoy!

* * *

Smarter Than the Average Bear

Chapter One

* * *

If Crowley had the opportunity to go back in time and change any facet of his life, he would gratefully pass up on the offer. Granted, if he would've known that the daily life of a Ranger Commandant meant paperwork over practical application, then perhaps he would have taken a different course of action. But, without a doubt, the Ranger Corps was the highlight, as well as the pinnacle of a young Crowley's life.

Hailing from an all-too-common family of farmers in southern Araluen, what now seemed like a century ago, a young Crowley had gathered the notion through societal expectations that his life was destined – or doomed, depending on how one views the amount of water in a cup – to carry on the family tradition of harvesting crops and raising livestock. The adventurous type, Crowley would always find himself in some sort of situation, his fiery attitude and inability to stay in one place the catalysts of such results.

Coincidentally, he had been the only one in his immediate family with a red signature to his hair. Vibrant and fiery, as was his personality at the time, Crowley's feisty antics would soon lead him to be scouted by a certain Ranger, Pritchard, which then rewired the entire course of his life. Introduced to a life of secrecy and underground vigilantism, the Ranger Corps was the outlet for his ever-seeking and energetic lifestyle, and a teenage Crowley felt that his enthusiasm could be applied to keeping his home country safe. The rate of pay was more than what he could have dreamed for as a traditional farmer, and through close ties and networking, he had been one of the few to meet with the king on a normal basis. Crowley's twenties had been the end of the seemingly lifelong search for an equilibrium.

But, with the many laws of physical and moral life, nothing is ever held in place for too long without motion of some sort, be it positive or degenerative. King Oswald, a brilliant king in hindsight, began to wither with age. With the physical dwindling came forth the mental deterioration, and per usual of Araluen politics, his "advisors" began to lay it on thick, eventually taking over duties as king completely. Duncan, young and inexperienced at the time, could only watch as the kingdom fell apart faster than it had been built.

In turn, the Ranger Corps began to rot from the inside out. The members had become lazy, and the ranks would be refilled with sons of noble beings within Araluen who would buy themselves in. Often times, these members would clash with the candid and modest oak leaf bearers, the nobility persevering because of their status within the steadily corrupting kingdom. One by one, the original members were framed, then exiled from Araluen, Pritchard being one of these men. Crowley, young and hungry, couldn't sit back and watch his pride, his equilibrium; his life, unravel before his eyes. Something needed to be done; if Araluen were to be fixed and rid of internal corruption, then he would need to start with the "eyes and ears" of the kingdom: he would need to revamp the Ranger Corps.

This is when he met a Hibernian by the name of Halt, at an inn one glorious evening. His red personality had gotten him into a scuffle with three men, all of whom worked under a Lord Morgarath. Though Crowley was by no means a small man, exceeding six feet with comfort, his age still left time for his body to fill out, and with the fact that he was outnumbered, he found himself surrounded by these men. Then, out of nowhere, a Hibernian man trained under Crowley's exiled mentor downed the men, sparing the fiery haired man of perhaps his life that evening. An introduction and a few hours later, this man, Halt, and Crowley were on the way to rebuilding the kingdom of Araluen, building a unique and everlasting friendship with his partner.

Nearly twenty years and a few grey hairs later, Crowley was here, stationed in castle Araluen, sitting slouched on a couch within his spacious castle suite, legs kicked out and resting on a low table placed in front of the furniture. He wore a casual Henley and trousers as he was awake during the earlier hours of the morning, gently sipping coffee and reminiscing about anything that came to mind. He normally did this in the morning, as even though some memories were not easy on the recollection, in a collective hindsight, he classified these memories as 'fond'. He liked recalling these instances, for he could compare what life was then to how it is now, and the difference in obligations and general things of worry. An understatement, but fully representative of his thoughts: A lot had changed since those days. Additionally, losing himself in his own thoughts remedied the countless hours of reports and drafts that consumed the majority of his life. But today these thoughts would have to cease, at least some of them, as his mind now became focused on the annual occasion that was to be held in less than a day: The Gathering.

The auburn haired toddler mumbled softly in his sleep, readjusting his position on his father, instinctively moving his head closer to the Ranger's exhale, squeezing him a bit as he stretched. He yawned, nuzzled his head in Crowley's upper chest, and continued his slumber. In turn, the Ranger used his left hand to gently rub his kin's back, rippling the linen shirt the boy had on only a little. As he did this, he leaned his head forward a little, and planted a small kiss atop the boy's head.

The average brown bear stood over three meters in height, when on its hind legs. Although Crowley was nowhere near this towering stature, he was just under a meter shy, a trait that he didn't share with most people. Furthermore, his body type was muscular and heavy, though not overweight, further fitting the comparison. His hair more strawberry blonde from the aging process, Crowley's profession issued almost no dress related protocol, and in turn he possessed a thick beard. It was not long and scraggly, as he was still an advisor to the king, and needed to look presentable. But as it was approaching the winter months at castle Araluen, his facial hair would have seemed to have layered, with the moustache portion effectively concealing his upper lip, and the entire feature providing warmth for the entire lower half of his face.

The boy now stirred a bit in his sleep, a slight whimper emitted from his sleep ridden state.

Crowley spoke with a deep, grizzly, and parental voice, with a correct intonation that soothed his slumbering pride. "What's wrong, young cub?"

Though the Ranger knew that nothing was actually troubling the sleeping figure, he usually did this, for if in the event that his son was within an unpleasant dream, then he would know that his father was there, offering his unconditional protection. It was an incoherent gesture, as Crowley stopped at nothing to ensure that his kin was as safe could be.

The boy stirred a bit more, then upon hearing Crowley, moved himself so that his head lay on his father's chest right beside his neck, refastened his left arm's position on the Ranger's upper body, breathed a sigh of comfort, and resumed his rest. Crowley nuzzled the toddler gently with his lower face, in turn, and planted another bearded kiss on the top of the boy's forehead, before growling a soft sigh of his own comfort.

Leif was the pride and joy of the Ranger's life, and very much a part of why he lived. Though Crowley was a jolly and lighthearted man in general, his life was laced with hard times from the very start, and to the day, he had been a man with few moral lines left to cross. Struggling with normal guilt, survivor's guilt, and even a little depression because of his past, Crowley had desperately needed a bright spot in his life. His inadvertent wish was given to him in the form of a son, and in turn, this man with a troubled past cherished Leif like no other. What the auburn haired, innocent and happy toddler saw in his grizzly father looked beyond a checkered past and was truly unconditional. The contrast between Leif's fresh youth and Crowley's experience is what drove the Ranger to keep him safe at any cost. Furthermore, the surreal feeling would hit Crowley at times like this, when the first glimpse of sunlight peeked through ajar shutters, and the main room within his suite carried a calming, morning darkness.

The crisp and cool morning air entered the room through slightly opened shutters, providing a breeze not too overpowering, but rather the perfect threshold of coolness. Peering out of an open shutter in his office, Crowley could hear the morning activity of the various birds that nested around the trees in the castle yard. It was a clear dawn, and the temperature wasn't quite as nippy as it ought to be, signaling that by midday the weather would be rather warm.

Leif yawned quietly, and eyes flickering open as he awoke from a peaceful night's rest. He lay there for a minute, as he gained knowledge of where he was. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, as if ridding himself of the last few inclinations to head back to sleep, then upon realizing that he had been nestled comfortably within the grasp of his father, he replaced his head where it originally was, on Crowley's chest.

"Good morning Leif," said the red haired Ranger with a slight southern drawl, the corners of his beard rising as he smiled at his son.

Crowley had angled his head so that he was looking directly at Leif, the same smile raising the corners of his beard. From here, the Ranger's soft hazel eyes looked into Leif's of the same color; the boy had taken after his father in mostly every physical way. A youthful smile was returned, and Crowley rubbed the canvas of hair, disheveling it in its place.

"Excited for today, young cub?" he asked, and Leif nodded enthusiastically.

"Do we get to see Unkow Haut?" Leif interrogated while yawning a bit.

"Uncle Halt – you mean _that_ old goat?"

"Unkow Haut is nawt an old gowt!"

Crowley chuckled. "No, of course not kiddo. Of course he'll be there. Why don't you go and get ready and then we can go get something to eat. Okay?"

"Okay!" was the sharp reply.

As the toddler hopped off of the couch, and proceeded to his dedicated room, where he would find clothes, Crowley proceeded to the office area of the suite. He had almost forgotten that King Duncan had delivered an official request for a report regarding the status of the Ranger Corps. With nothing immediate proving to be a hindrance to the corps, the report had been a relatively easy one to fill out. But, as classified and covert as Ranger were, Crowley couldn't leave the delivering of the letter back of the King in anyone else's hands but his own. Duncan understood this, and Crowley, with allowance of course, had relatively quick access to the king. He made a mental note to deliver the note before he left for the Gathering.

He turned when he heard the pandering of Leif's feet, as he sprinted into the office, clothes in hand, yelling in a sort of battle cry as he charged straight for his father.

Nonchalantly, as Leif came within striking distance, Crowley slung him up over his shoulders, indulging in the same mock-war. The boy laughed wholeheartedly, and a tired smile touched the corners of Crowley's mouth. He loved this boy.

"Alright," he said as he exited the office and into the main room, child still slung over his shoulder "Let's see what you got." He replaced Leif onto the furniture and grabbed hold of the assorted clothing that his son had grabbed. Leif had obtained a shirt similar to the one Crowley had on, and trousers of his own.

"This'll work just fine," Crowley remarked, and proceeded to remove the sleepwear that was currently being worn by the boy.

"Do we get to see Unkow Haut _and_ Giyan?" Leif asked. Preoccupied with changing the kid, Crowley gave an answer whilst working on his task.

"Mhmm. We get to see all the Rangers today kiddo."

Leif's eyed widened at his father's answer. "Aww of them?"

"That's right, young cub – All of them. Then daddy has to give all the older boys their necklaces."

The infamous question of all children Leif's age: "Why?"

Shirt and trousers now on, Crowley searched around for his son's ankle high boots. They were made of a thin leather and lined with sheepskin, providing warmth as well as mobility for the young boy.

"Well, that would be because they're full Rangers instead of apprentices."

"Are you an appwentice, daddy?"

The bearded man chuckled while retrieving the boots from a nearby corner. "I'm afraid I'm too old to be an apprentice, son. Now c'mon; put your boots on."

The boy slipped both of his feet into each corresponding boot. Crowley now sat beside him as he fastened his own boots onto his feet.

"You see Leif, your Uncle Halt and I are the _leaders_ of the Rangers. So we can't be apprentices."

Sitting upright, with his legs dangling off the couch's edge, and beside his father, the questions kept generating. "Will I be a Ranguh?" he asked.

Slipping the second boot onto his right foot, he knitted his eyebrows a bit as the boot didn't initially fit. Then, retrying, the error was immediately fixed. He then smiled warmly at his son. "You can be whatever you want to be; daddy will proud of you, no matter what."

He stood from the couch, then turned to face Leif. "But, do you know what Rangers need the most?" Leif raised his hands in an unknowing gesture.

"We need food, young cub! And if we don't head down now, all the food will be gone. You wouldn't want that to happen now, would you?"

The boy jumped from his sitting position to his feet. "No!"

"Good. Now, let's go eat."

Retrieving the royal letter from his desk within the office, the bear of a man now made his way to the door, his cub trotting after him. When he got to the front door, he picked the boy up, and placed him over his shoulders, so that his legs straddled his neck.

"Unkow Haut says that you eat too much and that you'we fat and old," said Leif, and Crowley smiled, the beard once again being displaced. He shook his head and gave a short exhale of laughter.

"Did he now?"

The boy nodded energetically. Crowley chuckled.

"Well then, could you ask him a question for me?"

Leif nodded. "What's youw question?"

"Ask him: Would you like to be the pot, or the kettle?"

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment, or any form of feedback. It's greatly appreciated!

-Commodore17


End file.
